Awaited Visit
by SetsunaNoroi
Summary: The spirit Bakura let Yami win to save Ryou, and Marik wants to know why. Now the tomb keeper is about to find answers he never considered from a long dead man who says he was a thief king, and Marik's former lover. M for citronshipping. Set during BC


This was a request made of me from thooruchan on Deviant Art. She read my ongoing story, Chains of Shadow: Kul Elna's Redemption and left a rather nice review. She also requested to do art of it, which deeply flattered me, as she is a rather spectacular artist.

Anyway, we had gotten to talking, and she requested a citronshipping fanfiction from me. For those of you who don't know, that is Marik Ishtar and the Thief King Bakura. An interesting couple, but one I've never written before. I wanted to do a good job for her, and I think I was able to come up with a feasible plot on how these two from different time lines could have met and interact.

As usual, I do not own Yu-Gi-Oh! This is simply a story that I have written with no plans on making any profit from it. I only want to entertain my readers.

Awaited Visit

Marik was not the type that understood companionship. It was something he had never truly experienced in his life, had never been able to partake in the concept of being friends or having ones that could care about you. He had Odion, but it was not really the same thing. He had often called him 'brother' growing up, but he had never heard the same thing back. It was always "Master Marik" this and "Master Marik" that. He had always followed their insane father's wishes, never allowing himself to get close to the young tomb keeper in the way he had wanted. To Odion, he was nothing more than a servant, not family, and over the years Marik had just learned to accept it and treat him accordingly, as a mere servant.

Ishizu was about the same to him. They had been close as children, caring deeply for one another, but when their father had been killed she had refused to leave with them. She still clung to their damn belief system, insisting on waiting for a pharaoh long since dead, the reason for their imprisonment as if they were worthless slaves. Her loyalty to their crazy traditions had been more important to her than family or common sense, and they seemed to have no love lost for each other now.

No, in Marik's life, there had been no one. No one close to him, no one he could completely rely on. All he had was himself. Companionship was not something he had ever been graced with, nor did he understand it. Little Yugi's desire for friendship, his need to have others close to him had only been a weakness to exploit, a way to lure him into a trap. He did not understand why such a thing was so important to him, or why because of that friendship Joey Wheeler had been able to fling him from his mind, fighting off his control and nearly sacrificing himself in order to save the young King of Games.

To Marik, people fell into two categories. Those that would use you, and those that you could use. There was nothing else to it. His Millennium Item itself spoke well of that. Darkness that he could manipulate to his whim to cloud others minds and bend them to his will, forcing them to do as he wanted with no ideas or thoughts of their own. It was a way of life he had long since become accustomed to and saw no reason to stray from that path.

He had thought Bakura understood that as well. A cold and cruel acting man in possession of both the Millennium Ring and a young boy named Ryou Bakura, he seemed to know what it meant to have to rip what you wanted away from others. They were nothing but pawns in this large game of life and death. The spirit lived through this Ryou Bakura person, forcing him to do as the spirit wanted to continue his own goals and plans.

Ryou Bakura was nothing but another pawn, another game piece, another slave. He had his purposes and he fulfilled them, and whether he did it willingly or not was a moot point. Marik had thought that Bakura saw this boy as nothing more than what he was, had cared little for him if it meant giving him his victory. After all, what was the boy to him? Even if Marik's plan had backfired and Bakura had lost the duel, the Pharaoh willing to sacrifice his friend in order to ensure the world's safety, the spirit could have always found himself another host. A body to steal and inhabit was not a hard thing to find. Marik would know. He had plenty of empty shells he commanded every day.

And yet... Bakura had been unwilling to go through with it. The thought that Ryou might get hurt, that he could lose the boy, and he had given up. He'd shouted down Marik, telling him he had his own ways to win his fights, and he did not care for Marik's tricks.

The words had greatly confused Marik. He didn't understand why this spirit was willing to throw away this duel, his chance of victory, and the right to posses the Millennium Rod all for some worthless boy. For it had to have been for Ryou. Marik had seen the briefest change in Bakura's expression, the way his features had softened for just a moment as he looked at the boy on his knees and weak to the point he could barely speak. He might have tried to hide it, tried to pretend he had not looked that way when he had yelled at Marik, but he had been worried about Ryou. He had not been willing to risk his host's further injury... for whatever reason.

Marik had not felt he could safely follow the others as Namu. He was trying to stay close to them, but he didn't want to raise suspicions. Instead he had left the little gang of friends to their own devices, worming his way into Tea's mind in order to watch the events unfolding through her. He simply watched Bakura, weak and unconscious as the others discussed the danger they all had to be in if Marik and the spirit were in fact working together.

He never would have thought this spirit would be so weak-hearted. He might have ridiculed and barked orders at him constantly, but he had wanted him to win. He wanted his God Card back, and he had been more than willing to part with the Millennium Rod in order to get his wish. The spirit's victory would have been just as much his own, watching Yugi fall into the darkness with his failure.

But he had given it all up, had destroyed everything he had worked for, all for the sake of some useless boy who looked as if he was at death's door anyway.

When the others left, Marik let them depart, promising in Tea's voice to watch over Bakura until they got back. They did not question her, nor did they notice the Ring getting pulled out of its hiding place and into her lap.

Marik stared at the Ring through her eyes, wondering why the spirit had done something so stupid and selfish. They could have won then and there, could have had everything and he had to throw it all away. It made no sense, no matter how hard he tried to think about it. This spirit was just as big a fool as everyone else and he had caused Marik one more setback because of it.

"You blasted fool," he hissed, squeezing the Ring in Tea's hands. "I should just take this lousy Item and throw it off the side of this blimp. You were just as useless to me as everyone else was!"

He wanted to know why this had happened. He deserved to know the truth why he had been betrayed, and he was going to force that spirit to tell him, even if he had to rip the answer out of him.

He received no answer though. Whether his former partner was hiding or he was simply too weak to come out, Marik didn't know. It had been a Shadow Game, the monsters real. That attack from Slifer would have deeply hurt anyone, dead spirit or not. He shouldn't have taken the blast himself, a perfect shield just sitting there, but it was abundantly clear that he put Ryou's health before his own.

Marik racked his brain for a reason. He knew so much about the Items and their individual legends. There had to be a reason why Ryou was important. There had to be. He just couldn't accept the spirit had such a damn soft heart concerning his host that he could easily replace.

But then maybe that was it. Maybe he could not replace the boy.

The former tomb keeper thought back to his lessons, the scriptures he had poured over hour after hour under the critical eye of his father. There had not been much written about some of the Items, only who had owned them in the Pharaoh's royal court. Of course the most noteworthy was the Puzzle, the symbol of the Pharaoh and considered the most powerful of the Millennium Items. The others had been fairly well skimmed over in comparison, their specific powers and wielders mentioned, but it had not had the same weight of importance. He of course knew the Necklace and Rod intimately, but such a thing was only to be expected when it was being passed down in his bloodline for generation after generation.

He knew so little of the Ring. It was one of the Items needed for the Pharaoh to collect and use to restore his memories and finally move on into the world beyond, but aside from that, Marik knew little of it. It was the same with the Eye, Key and Scales. As far as the scriptures had ever told him, the Puzzles was the only one to house a spirit, the god king himself. He had been taught it was one of many things that made the Puzzle and the Pharaoh so unique, so powerful.

He thought he had masked his shock well when he had met the spirit, seeing that he had been taught wrong all those years. He did not know who the man calling himself Bakura was, but it was obvious he was the same as the Pharaoh, a long dead man now inhabiting one of the Millennium Items.

Marik wondered how close the two of them were, how much they had in common. He had always known there was someone destined to house the Pharaoh, one living person who would prove himself worthy of the ancient king. There would never be another. Yugi was... in a sick sort of self-important way, unique. If anything were to ever happen to Yugi, the Pharaoh would have no host and would be unable to fulfill his destiny. It was something Marik had been counting on when he had brainwashed Joey and Tea, thinking he could rob Yugi of his life by using his friendship against him.

Perhaps Ryou Bakura was the same as Yugi. Perhaps Bakura needed the albino boy. Perhaps he was the chosen one to host that spirit, and no other would do. It would make more sense, knowing the spirit had been unwilling to gamble his fate for the Millennium Rod, knowing that if the Pharaoh carried through his attack and Ryou was hurt, Bakura would not only lose the duel but everything he had worked for. Without a host, he would never be able to collect the other Millennium Items and accomplish... whatever he had hoped to accomplish.

But... it just didn't seem to fit. If Bakura had stated it was all he wanted Ryou for, that he needed the mortal as a host and nothing more, Marik would have accepted it. He still would have been angry at Bakura's spineless attitude, unwilling to risk it, but he would have understood. As it was, he was left with nothing but questions, trying to figure out why such a sensible seeming man would be swayed by something so damn foolish.

Watching the sleeping boy, he realized he did not know anything about this spirit. He had not originally cared, only interested with how the spirit in the Ring could help him and giving little concern to what his partner's plans had been. It had not seemed to matter, unimportant and not worth his time. Now he wished he had payed a little bit more thought to it. It might have given him the answers he did not have if he knew how the other acted and thought. As it was, he had done nothing but make assumptions... and now he was getting nowhere in his musings, having no clue on why this spirit would have been so foolish when victory had been in his grasp.

Marik was not a type that easily accepted when he did not get what he wanted. He had spent too many years hearing no, not allowed to see the outside world, not allowed to escape the duties he did not want, unable to make his own family understand his fear of what he saw coming closer and closer with every passing day. His own father had stood over him, grinning like an insane demon while carving into his flesh as he begged through tears for mercy. He had not even paused to soothe his son, merely slashing away at him again and again for the benefit of a long dead and amnesiac king. After he had escaped, he did not accept hearing no again. His slaves had no will of their own and did as he demanded without question. What he wanted, he took, and he felt no remorse for it. It was his right to have what he felt he deserved, and he had the tools to acquire it.

But now he was facing something he could not have. No matter how hard he thought, no matter how long he pondered or theorized, no answers came to him. It was maddening. He wanted to grab the pale boy by the hair and shake him until the spirit came out and explained his selfish, stupid actions in a way that appeased the former tomb keeper.

It could not be because he cared about the boy. It just couldn't be something so pathetic. Marik didn't even know why, but he did not want to accept it. He refused to believe it, the mere thought churning his stomach, making it hot with anger as if heated steel had replaced his insides.

Marik's fingers clenched tightly into fists, and as they did, so did Tea's. He could feel the cold metal as if it was in his own hands. He longed to take the cursed thing and fling it off the blimp and watch it sail through the air, to land somewhere where no one would ever find it again. It would be a well deserved punishment, and the more he thought about it, the more he wanted to do exactly that.

He stood suddenly in his own room, severing the connection with Tea with a mere second. He'd had enough of seeing things through her eyes. It was time to take care of this himself. Knowing she would do nothing but sit there without a command from him, he quickly left his room, the electronic door sliding open to let him pass, the slight buzz and hum of working gears the only sound in an otherwise dead silent hallway. Wherever the others where searching for answers, his way seemed to be clear.

Setting off quickly down the hall, he wasted no time getting to the room that housed Bakura. He met no one on his way there, walking inside of the room. The sight of Tea sitting near the bed greeted him, but he paid her no mind. Briskly walking up to the bed, he glared down at the white haired boy and snarled softly.

"You're an idiot and a fool," he hissed. "We could have had everything, all of it. And you... you just..."

He seethed for a moment, but no answer was given. He was the only one who moved in the room. Ryou and Tea might as well have been corpses for all the attention they were giving him.

"Dammit," he snarled, yanking the Ring from his mind slave's grasp. "This is all your fault! All of it! I could have won! I could have become Pharaoh if you hadn't gone soft on me! Tell me what it is that makes him so special to you!"

The silence was enough to make him want to scream. It reverberated around him, taunting him with a secret it seemed he could not be privy to. Gritting his teeth in his anger, his grip on his own Millennium Item tightened and he threw the Ring to the floor with a clang that seemed much too loud, echoing off of the walls in the quiet room.

"Fine," he whispered out, his voice low and hoarse. "If you won't tell me, I'll force it out of you. You want this boy to live so much, let's see how you react when I tear him away from this mortal coil."

Taking his Rod in both hands, he drew away the sheathe, slowly revealing the long dagger it concealed. Glistening in the low light, the blade was sharp and deadly, something Ryou would find out quickly enough if Marik didn't receive his answers. And if he didn't, then the boy would die and the spirit would be without his precious little host. Either way, it would leave the former tomb keeper feeling very satisfied.

"Last chance, Bakura!" he shouted as he raised his arm, intent to bring the weapon down with full force if he did not get what he wanted. "If you want your pathetic shell to keep on living, you had better act quickly!"

Thrusting his arm down, it did not get very far until a hand grabbed him by the wrist, yanking it harshly from Ryou. For a second Marik was terrified he had been found out, his mind racing for any possible explanation he could use to explain away this situation, but it was not the Pharaoh or any of his friends that he saw.

Standing next to the young Egyptian boy, and gripping his arm still rather tightly was a tall man, skin darker than his and with a messy mop of white hair. Dressed in torn and dirty clothing, he looked as though he'd been dragged through the mud a few times. A red cloak hung off his body, the materical looking as if it had once been fine and beautiful once, but now was barely above a mere rag. The only nice things on this person were a few pieces of gold randomly ornamenting his body, a ring on his finger, a couple of bracelets and a long, jeweled clasps for his cloak that looked as if it had been broken and never repaired, as if the owner cared little for it's condition.

He looked haggard and starved, his stance strong, but his face a little gaunt. A warm bath and meal would have done wonders for him, but it seemed he had done without such niceties for longer than would have been comfortable for anyone. Of course, of all the things that just looked... well, wrong with the man, one stuck out more than everything else combined. A long scar, sickening and horribly stretched, as if he had gotten it at too young an age, stretched over his face, barely hinting at covering one eye.

Marik knew personally the pain of scars. To him, each was a story of some horror, either on his own person or on another. He had a feeling there was a story to that one that even he, as cold as he was, did not want to know.

"Now, now, little slave," the man hissed in his face, the words coming from his mouth not Japanese, but something the boy had not heard spoken in many, many years since he had run from his home. How did this person know ancient Egyptian? "Up to something naughty, are we?"

"I'm not a slave," he bit out, glaring at the man. "Don't you dare refer to me as such. Do you have any idea who you're talking to? Release me now, or you'll regret it!"

The man did not seem to think much of being threatened, and obviously wanted to show Marik as such. Feeling his grip tightening on his wrist, Marik was able to keep himself from wincing, unwilling to give the other the satisfaction in knowing he was hurting him, but just barely. His arm was screaming at him from the agony from such a intense hold and he could hardly believe anyone had such strength. He tugged at his arm, trying to break free, but it did him little good. While the man did not look like much, he was obviously stronger than the boy, not even seeming to be trying very hard to keep a hold of him.

"You have a lot of spirit in you, little slave," the man drawled out, clearly mocking him. "But don't be a fool. I could kill you in a second if I wanted to. Don't go and threaten my host again if you have any sense of self preservation. I have a tendency to get nasty when people who are important to me are in danger."

"You... your host?" he whispered. "Bakura?"

The softly uttered word seemed to surprise him, but only slightly, the man blinking in confusion for a moment before throwing his head back and laughing hard. Marik felt confused, not seeing why this was so funny, or why it would get such a reaction from him. Had the blow from Slifer damaged his mind?

"I suppose you could call me that," he said with a shrug. "It's not my name, but you could call me that. No one really remembers what I'm called anymore anyway. I guess the name of a petty thief doesn't matter too much to the people of today. I am, however, not the man you made the deal with for the price of your Millennium Item."

"So you're not the spirit of the Ring," Marik concluded.

"Oh no, I am," he assured him. "Just not the one you know. There's more than just one entity coexisting in that little piece of jewelry."

"If you're not the spirit of the Millennium Ring, than who are you?" he bit out. "Don't play with me."

"You make a lot of demands for a child," he said before he grinned and leaned in close. Marik leaned away just as far, not wanting to be too close to him. "I suppose I could indulge you for a little while. After all, it feels like a moment like this for me to enjoy would never come to me again."

"Just what are you talking about?" he yelled, quickly getting fed up with the man's aloof attitude. He did not allow anyone to speak to him like this anymore, and this 'spirit' he was dealing with was begging for retribution on his actions.

"Shh," he purred, a smirk pulling at his lips. "Just be quiet a moment. It won't hurt... much."

There was no time to ask him what he meant by such a comment. Marik barely opened his mouth to ask before his stomach seemed to drop suddenly, causing him to lurch forward. The floor gave way underneath of him, and he began to fall, a blinding white light surrounding him. He tried to scream but no sounds escape his throat as his hands clawed out for anything to grab a hold of, trying to catch himself. Nothing met his fingers though, as if he had suddenly been taken to a void of empty space, all alone inside of it.

Marik gasped loudly as his eyes snapped open, laying out on a hard and cold floor. Sitting up immediately, he blinked in confusion. He had just been falling an instant ago. Had he been dreaming? Groaning, he buried his head in his hands, feeling a headache coming on. He was thoroughly confused, having no idea what was going on, or why it was happening.

"Feeling a little disoriented, little slave?"

His head jerking up at the sound of that familiar voice, Marik's gaze was met by the sight of the man he had seen before sitting on the floor and resting against a wall. He looked much different than he had before, no longer dirty or bruised and his clothes seeming to be in much finer condition. A wickedly crooked smirk rested on his lips as he watched Marik, seeming amused by his apparent confusion.

"It's nothing to worry about," he assured him. "It's not strange for someone to feel a little out of it after being pulled inside of a Soul Room. I've seen others vomit when they're not braced for it. You're surprisingly more tenacious than what I assumed."

"A... a Soul Room?" Marik asked slowly. He remembered such a term, reading about them quite a lot in his scriptures. It was supposed to be someone's inner mind, their sanctuary safe away from all prying eyes, save of course from those with the proper Millennium Items to view such a place. "You took me here?"

"Got it in one, slave," the man replied, chuckling softly. "You're a smart one, aren't you?"

Marik growled, long since tired of the games this person was playing with him. He was not some sniveling, defenseless child this man could just play with as he wanted.

"Stop calling me that," he hissed as he stood up, striding over and baring over the sitting man. "I am not a slave."

"Oh, you're not?" he asked, his eyebrow raised in a disbelieving fashion. "So, you're not a servant of a certain pharaoh, locked away under the earth and desert sands in order to keep secrets that no longer matter?"

"Am I supposed to be impressed?" Marik snorted. "I met with the spirit called Bakura, I told him what he needed to know in order to work for me. He was more than aware of my lineage. If you share the Ring with him, obviously you would know as well."

"Maybe," he replied, resting his arms back behind his head and smiling up at him. "But I don't think so. You don't remember me, do you?"

"Remember?"

"You used to be so proud of your lineage," he continued, as if he had not even heard Marik, or worse yet, was ignoring him. "A faithful servant of the Pharaoh. Mmm, but that was a long time ago."

"What are you talking about?" Marik demanded loudly, clenching his fists tightly in his anger. This man was mocking him, treating him like some imbecile. "I demand you tell me who you are! NOW!"

And all of a sudden, Marik was doubting whether he wanted his answer or not. In the time it took him to even draw in a breath, the man was up on his feet on on top of him, grabbing him and shoving him against a wall harshly, with speed and strength that surprised the young man. He struggled to get free, but the grip on him was like steel, relentless and refusing to give him an inch of freedom.

"You would have never let me touch you before like this," the man whispered, his voice getting dangerously low. "Not before. Can you blame me now? Of all the treasures I stole from that damn king, you should have been on top of my list. If I had known what would have happened... I swear I would have forgotten the Items and only taken you."

"What are you talking about?" Marik yelled. "Tell me who you-"

The man however seemed no longer interested in talking. Lips pressed against his throat, silencing him as easily as if they had been shoved against his lips. The action, so small and simple, took away his very breath, almost choking him. The soft lips resting against his skin, kissing him gently, the sensation almost burned. The spot felt hot and it was slowly spreading, heating up his whole body and making him feel strange. His skin was warm and prickling, as if small needles were pressing against his skin, not quiet piercing, but definitely bothering him, forcing him to notice.

And yet, it was not an unpleasant sensation. Though his head was swimming and his body suddenly seemed to have become feverish, he liked it. It felt good, soothing. It was like a small fire had caught in his stomach and was warming him, warding off a chill.

A tongue swept over the spot, eliciting a small moan from him and the man pulled away, staring at him.

"Do you have your answer now?" he breathed huskily, sounding as if he had been just as affected as Marik was.

The former tomb keeper stared at him, taking in his features. His eyes traced the scar on his face like a map that would lead him to his answer.

"Akefia," he breathed softly. "I... I knew you. You called yourself the Thief King. Wait... How could I know that?"

"We met a long time ago," he informed him. "I had a body back then, and you... you were in another. You weren't called Marik back then. I'm sorry. I wish I could tell you what your name was, but I forgot it over the millennium that's passed. I can't tell you how guilty I feel about that."

"Millennium?"

"You were in the service to a pharaoh. I found you one night. You had a sister, a priestess that you were helping. I'd merely meant to steal from her... She was in possession of the Millennium Necklace. I wanted it for myself. Instead I saw you. You talked back just as much as you do now, though your attitude was a little holier than thou back then. You were so self-righteous."

He looked at Marik for a moment before snickering.

"Then again, maybe you haven't changed that much after all."

Marik made to hit him, but his fist was caught before it made contact. Akefia only smiled and brought it to his mouth, kissing his wrist, nipping at the skin playfully. Marik didn't even try to hold back his gasp, though knowing he probably should have.

"I came back to you, again and again," he continued, as if nothing had happened, though now talking into Marik's arm. He could feel the hot breath ghosting over his skin, those soft lips moving against his wrist as he spoke. "I swore I'd steal you too, make you mine. I told you once I had the Items, once I won, I'd come for you and show you how much I needed you. I craved only two things, my desire for revenge and to have you at my side."

"I refused you," Marik said softly. Memories that he knew were not his own filtered into his head, feelings mostly. Anger and confusion, and on top of it all... lust. He'd wanted the thief to keep him promise, to steal him. He'd hated the thought and yet he had wanted it desperately for reasons he'd bee unable to understand... or maybe unwilling to accept? He didn't know for sure. Perhaps he hadn't known back then either. It had been a war in his head... one where he did not know which side he should fight on... or that he wanted to win. "I... I always drove you off."

"I left whenever you started screaming," Akefia admitted. "I never wanted to get caught after all."

He sighed softly and pulled Marik into a hug. Not knowing why he was allowing it, he simply held him as well.

"If I had known," he repeated. "If I had known the truth, I never would have... I would have just had you. I was a fool. It should have been enough."

"I don't understand," Marik said. He'd been understanding much too little this night. It was beginning to weigh heavy on him. "What did you try to do?"

Akefia cursed softly, holding the boy tighter, squeezing him to his body.

"No," he refused. "I can only have you so long before he notices. I won't let you go a second time. You'll get your answers... but after I have what I've waited forever for."

Hot lips attacked his own, pressing against him hungrily with a fierceness Marik had never felt before. He should have screamed, should have tried to push the other away, should have resisted somehow. His body was not listening to him, and though he tensed against the onslaught, he found himself quickly giving in. He kissed back just as fiercely, though not with as much skill. He'd never experienced something like this before, though he was not entirely sure what he was supposed to do, he was quickly coming up with ideas.

Lips soon parted, opening to let tongues flash out, dancing with each other wildly. Akefia was firm in his explorations, seeming intent on learning every dip and curve in his mouth. Marik did not mind. He'd quickly gotten lost in a fog of need and fiery lust, finding himself just as eager to let him explore. His moves were coaxing, silently asking the thief to do whatever he wanted to him.

Pressing himself into the other, he covered Marik's body with his own, pushing him into the wall as they frantically kissed one another. Hands began moving over him, pushing up his shirt, tracing his taunt muscles, fully grabbing him in places no one had ever touched before.

"Oh... oh Ra," he moaned, titling his head back as Akefia attacked his neck. A moan escaped him, loud and long, seemingly begging for more without the use of words. Words weren't required here. They weren't even wanted. Somehow communicating no longer needed anything more than this, flustered noises and hurried explorations of the others body.

Jumping up slightly, Marik hooked his legs around the thief's waist, hugging him with his thighs, trusting the other not to drop him. Akefia returned to kissing him with a renewed vigor and... was he growling? The young Egyptian could not help but smirk to himself slightly. Looks like he liked the position.

"Marik,"he hissed in his ear, "I want you."

The soft words seemed to be some kind of confession, but Marik's head was swimming too much to pay it any mind. Instead he only nodded as if he did indeed understand and kissed him again, finding he did not like it when this man was not pressing his lips against some part of his body. There was a blaze inside of him, consuming everything in it's wake. He no longer cared about anything, why Bakura had given up or his hatred or desire for revenge. They had all taken back seat to this new experience, and at the moment, it was all he deemed necessary to want.

Akefia seemed to have a small problem with modern day clothes though. Grunting, his fingers fumbled with the chains of Marik's shirt, tugging unnecessarily to try to get it off of his lover. Marik, despite the heat of desire he was feeling inside of him could only chuckle softly and stripped it off, tugging it off of his head and tossing it aside. Immediately a tongue swept over his chest, swirling over his dusty brown nipples, hardening them immediately as he groaned, bucking his hips.

Marik was a virgin, but he knew exactly what they were doing. He'd had urges and hormones before this, often explained to him by members of his family what sex was. He after all, was expected to bring forth an heir one day, something that had not been hidden from him even at a young age. It was something that was supposed to be understood and just carried out, like every other duty that had been forced upon him. And while he had not been told anything of the possibility of two men or two women together, he had been on the surface long enough after his escape to see not everything he had been told about the sexes had been entirely true.

He had not payed too much attention to what he might have liked. Both men and women had looked pleasing to him, but he was much too involved in other matters to think much about it. Bringing down a Pharaoh long since dead and bringing about his family's freedom had been more important to him than his questions about the fairer sex or even his own sex. But as he was held up against a cold wall, a hot and very male body digging into his own and finding the position not annoying, but enjoyable to his very core, he had a feeling he now knew his answer.

He felt a tugging on his belt, it getting undone and thrown away easier than his shirt. His pants were pulled up, exposing his hips and lower, the material bunched up and bundled just underneath of his bottom, pressed tightly against Akefia's stomach.

A soft laugh erupted from Akefia and he looked down at Marik's body.

"I see you're not in the habit of wearing many layers of clothes," he whispered huskily. "That was always such a silly habit my host got into. Strange how society has changed."

"Everything going on, and you're talking about whether I wear underwear or not?" Marik hissed impatiently.

"Hmm, but I can't help but be fascinated," he moaned, a single finger running up the hard length that was exposed to him. Sliding slowly up, it rested against his slit, spreading around the precum as Marik moaned and writhed. "After all, you're so pretty down here."

"Akefia," he breathed, his chest heaving as he breathed. He didn't know what he wanted to say, but he felt like this should have been a perfect time to express something sweet and caring.

It was only too bad that he was neither of those things.

"I wish I could take my time with this," Akefia told him, reaching down and tugging up the cloth covering his own waist and member. Marik blushed, feeling something very hard and long resting against his cheeks, for the first time feeling worried about what they were doing. This... this was his first time, and there was no way this would work without-

"It won't hurt," he assured the younger one as if he had sensed his thoughts. "This is my Soul Room, my little sanctuary inside of the Ring. You'll only be able to feel what I want you to feel. There will be nothing but pleasure, I swear it."

Marik seemed a little unsure, but there was not much he could do in this position. Akefia could take him as easily as shifting his hips and pushing up. He really had no defense if the thief decided to take him. However, there must have been a trace of fear still in his expression because the man did no such thing, instead smiling and kissing his nose sweetly.

"Trust me," he said with a smile that could have charmed a poisonous serpent. "It won't hurt. But I need you to accept it, Marik. Tell me I can touch you. It wouldn't mean a damn thing if you didn't say yes."

Ah, so that's what he wanted. Permission. He needed Marik to give in and tell him that this was okay. It made some sense. Somewhere in the back of his mind, he could half recall the thief sneaking into his room before, keeping a respectable distance but telling him his intentions, what he wanted. He remembered himself never giving in, never letting him have even a brief touch. It must have been maddening to the thief... especially since he could have taken him if he had wanted to. There had been many times that nothing could have stopped him from stealing his old self, snatching the young man into the night and keeping him forever.

Marik did not have that kind of patience. If the situation had been reversed, he probably would have not thought twice about forcing someone he wanted to come with him, taking a mind and body as he saw fit. He did that often after all, though never for romantic reasons, he still had followed through such actions all too often.

The fact that Akefia was willing to, even after so long of not having the object of his affections... or perhaps obsession, it was in a strange way both stupid and admirable.

"Fine," he muttered, trying not to sound like he cared that much. There was a look of deep devotion in the man's eyes, and it was causing a certain odd feeling in his stomach. For the first time in a long, long time, Marik felt wanted. Like he was the only person in Akefia's world that mattered. He felt... loved. It honestly scared him and he was uncertain about the feelings, both his own and the thief's.

A kiss brushed over his cheek, perhaps a silent thank you from the other. He felt a pressure at his cheeks, hands gripping him firmly and spreading him. His breath caught in his throat as he felt himself pierced, bracing himself for the pain he was sure to tear him apart.

It never came.

His eyes widened in surprise as his body immediately accepted the flesh inside of him, pushing past his ring of muscles and burying into him. A harsh gasp sounded from his lips, unable to believe the level of pleasure he was capable of experiencing.

"I told you," Akefia replied, a hint of a laugh in his voice. "It's not your actual body, just your soul that is in here. You don't have a body to hurt. Technically, you'll even still be a virgin once this is over."

Marik was not sure what he meant by, "once this is over". He honestly wanted it to last forever. Pure bliss was running over him in waves, crashing over his body and making him feel like he was sinking in this pleasure. However, he did not have time to ask, Akefia starting to move inside of him. Slowly drawing out of his body, he thrust in again quickly, causing Marik to scream.

Sounds of pure lust poured from him as he clung to the other, crying out and gasping for more and more. Akefia himself was groaning and grunting as he moved, together making a symphony of tell-tale noises of their lovemaking. There was nothing inside of Marik anymore. No pain, no sorrow, not even the thoughts of revenge. They'd all been erased, his need for this too much for him to bare.

The pace picked up and Marik moved his hips as well, caring little for how his back was rubbing against the stone wall behind him, or how it was a little uncomfortable. He only needed more of Akefia moving with him, pushing him to every limit he had with each trust. It could have been hours or minutes they moved like this in the dim light, worshiping each others bodies like some sort of nocturnal creatures caught up in the wild thoughts of mating. Time had lost all meaning to Marik's mind, only the physical mattering. Each push, each scream, every slap of the flesh and hurriedly groaned promise of need seemed to drag on. He could have sworn he was losing his mind, nothing making a damn bit of sense to him anymore, and yet... in it all, he would have gladly been insane for this.

He barely heard the frantic whisper from the man how he would not last much longer. The pressure in his own body was reaching its peak, and he could only shakily nod his head, giving permission for whatever the thief wanted from him. He didn't think there were any words to describe the sensations rocking in his very soul when his body finally gave in and burst. None of them, no matter what language he knew would have done, all of them falling short to give an accurate description of force that caused him to scream the loudest, nearly tearing his throat at the volume and force of it. It was like all of the feelings and pleasure had been a mere precursor to this one moment, his body wracked with such an intense feeling that it almost hurt. Tears were streaking down his eyes, his body feeling as if it was being consumed by a hungry monster, lapping at his whole being with a warm and wet tongue, pleasing him to the brink of madness, even as it devoured him. Surely he had to be crazy. Nothing in the real world could have ever felt so good. It all had to be made up in his head.

Finally he calmed down, clinging to the other, messy and half dressed and not giving a damn. What he had just experienced, he wanted more, though he had a feeling he would surely die if he tasted that again so soon.

Deep blue eyes glanced up at him, hungry and happy at the same time. Fogged over and giving him a strange expression, Marik did not bother to try to understand what the other might be feeling and only kissed him desperately, hugging him tightly.

"Marik," he breathed. "I wish I could tell you everything. I wish I could keep you here, away from all of the horrors of the world."

"I wouldn't allow that," Marik replied, finally his mind seeming to come back to him. "I have things I have to do. And you promised me answers."

Akefia looked at him for a moment before sighing.

"I can't," he said, pulling away and letting the tomb keeper stand on his own feet. "He's felt you here. If you stay... I'm sorry. I should have explained, but I couldn't help it. I wanted to hold you, even if it was just once."

"He felt me?" Marik asked. "Who, the other spirit? Bakura?"

"Yes and no," Akefia said. "I wanted to tell you... everything. The origins of the Items, your role, your real role in it all. But I can't. He's listening. If I told you, it... He could kill you easily."

Marik's eyes pulled together, looking at Akefia suspiciously.

"Is he keeping you here?" he demanded. "Is that what Bakura's game is? Well, don't worry! I'll free you! Bakura and I have no alliance anymore! I'll save you! I pro-"

His words were cut off, a finger resting on his lips. Something in Akefia's face looked sad, forlorn. Marik did not see how he could be so sad after something so wonderful.

"I told you. I protect what is precious to me. Telling you would be easy, but it would only get you killed now. I can't tell you what path to take, but I trust you. You were always the pure, strong boy I fell in love with. You'll find the right way. I know you will. I know you don't remember all of our past, and you won't remember this. But I will. I'll always have you in my heart. But... it's too dangerous for you to remember this. I guess I'm just a foolish little thief after all."

Marik should have tried to get away, should have demanded more information, but he was too confused by what he was hearing to think straight. Akefia's forehead rested on his own, causing him to blink.

"Akefia?" he asked, his voice sounding so small and confused to him.

"Shh. Don't worry. In the end... it will all work out. I trust you to do the right thing."

There was a flash of light, a burning pain in his head, and then it was gone. All of it, the room, the man, everything. He felt again as if he was falling, no idea what was going on. He might have screamed Akefia's name, one last attempt to find out what was going on, though he could not hear it, and all too soon everything went dark.

Groaning softly, Marik sat up, clutching his head. A headache was forming in his mind, feeling as if it was splitting his skull. Slowly he looked around, straightening immediately when he saw where he was.

What was he doing in Bakura's room? Had he come here with Yugi and the others? He couldn't remember, the past events seeming fuzzy in his mind. He could remember the duel between the Pharaoh and Bakura... and Bakura losing. Straining his memory, the rest didn't seem to want to come together. He didn't think he followed the others in their rush to help the host Bakura had been controlling, but yet here he was.

Standing up, he dusted himself off. Seeing the Ring on the floor, he snorted and picked it up. Whatever was going on, he had better not be caught with it. Leaving it in Tea's care, he left the still girl and boy in the room, sneaking out as quickly and quietly as he could. He'd sort this all out later. For now, he didn't want to be caught in here by the others.

Unaware of it, someone was watching him leave. Eyes narrowed, eyes that no one would have been able to see or sense the presence of. Bakura, the spirit of the Ring watched the Egyptian boy, no memories of what Bakura had watched in the room of Akefia's. It was a good thing the thief had thought to wipe his memories. He was right, if Marik had known the truth, if he had gone to the Pharaoh with any information, it would have been disastrous to his plan. If there had been any doubt that the boy knew nothing more than he had when had walked in, the shadow wouldn't have let him get out of the room alive. Still, if the pathetic thief wanted his lover spared, it's not like it hurt Bakura.

"As if he could have ever saved you from your prison," he muttered before smirking. "Face it thief, you belong to Zork. You and the boy you forced me to surrender for to save. To think I was forced to give up to save my host." Snorting, he shook his head. "You've grown stronger, to be able to do something like that. Even taking control for only a few seconds... I hope you understand you'll receive a punishment for that. Of course... knowing you, you probably think it was worth it."

The door slid closed, the words he spoke heard by no one but himself. It hardly mattered. Things were going according to plan, despite this small set back. There were more important things to take care of, and for now he could be patient and wait.

End

This is sort of a sad ending, but I didn't know where else to leave it. Citron has the small problem of the Thief King being dead years before Marik was ever born, so keeping them together is a little tough. Still, I think I made it work while still staying fairly close to the canon of the show.

If you enjoyed it, please you review. If you didn't, feel free to review anyway and tell me what you thought. All comments are welcome.


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